Running With Scissors
by folie a plusieurs
Summary: 'People always say, 'Never run with scissors if you don't want to get hurt.' That's what I feel like I'm doing with Oliver Wood; running with scissors.' HermioneOliver. One-Shot. AU.


Running With Scissors

_**For MidnightEmberMisery's 'The Girls of Harry Potter, round 2' Challege**_

_**Pairing: Hermione Granger and Oliver Wood**_

_**Prompt: Scissors**_

* * *

"Hermione?" A familiar voice whispers, one with a thick Irish accent. I open my mouth to let him know where I am, but his lips meet mine before I can. He pushes me back against the wall and I let out a moan.

People always say, 'Never run with scissors if you don't want to get hurt.' That's what I feel like I'm doing with Oliver Wood; running with scissors. It's dangerous and exciting; dangerous, because if we get caught we're both screwed, but we do it anyway, making it exciting.

It all started at the beginning of this school year. We bumped into each other after Quidditch practice was over, got to talking, and the next thing I know, I'm in the cupboard, having the best snog of my life.

It was never meant to be like this, us sneaking away from our friends to meet up with each other all the time, anytime. In fact, I'm still not sure _how _it got this far.

All I know is I'm addicted.

"Mmm," I groan as he kisses my neck. We've never gone all the way and I doubt we will. This, whatever it is, is just… I don't know, for fun, I guess you could say. To blow off steam, without strings attached.

After all, he's leaving at the end of the year and I'll be getting ready to go into my fifth year. It'd be stupid to feel anything more for him, I tell myself before losing myself in the kiss.

I know it seems kind of sluttish to be doing this, but I can help myself. There's something about him that intrigues me.

He's like a drug, addictive.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to stop.

* * *

Fall turns to winter, and snow starts to fall outside. The days grow shorter and colder.

Oliver and I are still hooking up anytime we can. In broom closets after Quidditch, in his dorm during dinner, in the locker rooms, everywhere.

I tell myself, as I head to met up with him once again, I should break things off. I tell myself that all the time, but I never do. I always open my mouth to, but then he'll cover his lips with mine and the words will become a hazy mess in the back of my brain.

Today is no different.

"Mmmhh.." I moan, arching my back towards him. He pushes me back into the wall by the showers(we're in the quidditch locker rooms today).

His kisses are passionate and addictive and I can't help but feel as if I'm flying when I'm with him.

I feel as if I'm someone else, someone sexy and beautiful.

I like that feeling, I decide as I run my hands down his abs. I like feeling wanted. Is that a crime?

Didn't think so.

I know I should tell Ginny or Harry or even Ron, but I can't bring myself to. There's something about sneaking around that makes 'this' even better.

* * *

By March, everything is great. Except the fact that 'no strings' is becoming increasingly difficult for me to handle.

When we first started this, the line between snogging and romance was obvious, but somewhere along the way the line became blurry, and now I'm not sure what we are or what we're suppose to be.

Slowly, but surely, I've fallen for him. For Oliver Wood, Quidditch Extraordinaire. And now I'm not sure what to do.

_Should I tell him_? I ask myself as I head to lunch. I immediately remove that though from my head. No. I'll keep this to myself. By May, I'll be over him, then he'll graduate and I'll never have to worry about these pesky feelings of mine.

Some how, I know that'll never actually work. I still tell myself that, though. I need to tell myself that so I can get through the day.

It's not like he'll ever find out about my feelings for him, anyway.

* * *

"Mmhhh," a week later, we're in a cupboard. The space is limited and so is time, making it even more… Romantic? Passionate? I'm not sure what word to use in this situation, but it's something alright.

"Hermione," he moans as I kiss his neck.

His shirt had been hazardously discarded minutes earlier and we're in full-on snog mode.

I don't mean to say it, but it slips out anyway.

"I love you," I mumble into his neck, then, realizing what I've just said, pull away in mortification.

Oliver stares at me in shock, opening and closing his mouth and my face flushes.

"Wha-what?" he asks.

I don't answer, I just grab my bag and, even though my hairs a mess and my shirt isn't all the way on, I run.

I'm not sure where I'm running to. I'm only aware of one thing.

Oliver Wood isn't following me.

* * *

May comes faster than I'd prefer. Before I know it, there's only three days left of school, and I hadn't talked to Oliver since back in March, when I blurted out my feelings for him.

Things are different now, I tell myself. He doesn't want a relationship, not with me, some lowly fourth year; not when he can have any girl in Hogwarts.

It takes a while to get used to not having someone to snog every day and even longer to get out of the habit of being secretive, but I do eventually. I know I should feel better now that I'm not keeping secrets, but I just feel worse.

After dinner, I head up towards the common room, so I can go to my dorm and go to sleep, where Oliver will haunt me in my dreams.

As I'm walking, a tiny first year comes up to me.

"Hermione?" she asks and I nod in confusion. "I was told to give you this," she says, handing me a piece of folded up parchment.

I nod my thanks and open it as she walks away.

"_Meet me at our spot - O," _I read aloud, frowning slightly.

Why does Oliver want to meet by the lake? Only one way to find out, I tell myself and head to the lake.

I smile lightly in spite of myself when I get outside. I love the way summer nights feel. They're warm, but not to hot or cold. And the view of the stars and the sounds the frogs and crickets make; it's all just perfect.

Even if my life isn't.

When I reach the lake, I spot Oliver sitting by the shore, his knees drawn up to his chin. His eyes are locked on the water and I'm sure he doesn't notice me, until he turns to look at me as I sit beside him.

Oliver doesn't say anything. He just stares at me, with those green eyes that make me want to melt. I try my hardest to avoid his eyes, but I can't bring myself to brush him off like that, so my eyes lock with his, before he turns back to the lake.

I copy his actions, shaken up that after two mouths, he can still affect me like that.

We sit in silence for a little bit, watching the water. Fish jump into the air, making the water ripple.

"Did you mean it?" Oliver asks, after a few minutes of silence, not taking his eyes from the lake.

"Yeah. I did." I say, staring as the giant squid splashes around the lake.

From the corner of my eye I see him smile slightly.

"Well, in that case," he turns to face me. "I love you, too."

This must be a dream, I decide and pinch myself. When I realize it's not, I smile.

"Really? Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't you follow me when I ran away?" I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes. He's suddenly closer.

"I don't know… I got scared. I let you go, but not this time," he whispers against my lips. I move my face forward half an inch, and we're kissing.

It's different than any thing we've ever experienced, slower, more sure and way more romantic.

I don't know a lot of things; what we'll do in three days, or for the summer, or even next year. I don't know what'll happen now that Voldemort's back. I don't know what Harry and Ron will think or if I'll even care.

All I know is I love him.

I love Oliver Wood.

And I don't feel like I'm running with scissors anymore.

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated, considering I'm new with writing this couple (:**_


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